


Eat Your Greens

by TheOneWithTheBlue



Series: Quinn Is A Temptress. [3]
Category: The Used
Genre: Bert has a food kink, Blow Jobs, Broccoli kink, Food Kink, Food blow job, M/M, Quinn 'Subtle' Allman, Why Do You Talk Me Into These Things, sneaky gays, the used - Freeform, what even is this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-11 15:26:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13527144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneWithTheBlue/pseuds/TheOneWithTheBlue
Summary: Quinn reckoned he was a better cook than Bert gave him credit for.He would go so far as to say it was orgasmic.





	1. Quinn Is Getting Smacked For This

**Author's Note:**

> This is your fault. You know who you are.

If someone were to compile a list of Quinn Allman's skills, cooking would be somewhere between playing the trombone and paying attention in math class. Nevertheless, he could make a mean toasted cheese, which was impressive considering his mothers' idea of cooking involved a takeout container and a microwave. In his time living with the Allmans, Bert had insulted Quinns cooking 26 times. This would be fine, if not for the fact that he had only sucked Quinn's cock 25 times. That seemed awfully unfair to the guitarist, and he felt that the time was coming when he ought to even out those scores a little. If the guy was gonna put him down, he better be ready to go down, right?

Or else Quinn was a horny fuck who got off on watching greasy black haired boys squirm.

***************************************************************

Quinn had been winding Bert up all day. Pressing against him in the bathroom when he needed to reach something in the cabinet, brushing off him in the hallway, sitting so close Bert could feel the heat of his leg through their clothes. It was driving McCracken crazy, he just wanted to touch him. He was waiting, just waiting for Quinn to give him that look and disappear into the bathroom, the bedroom, anywhere. To make matters worse, he had dreamt about that night when the older of the two had surprised him with a steaming bath of broccoli and absolutely wrecked his ass in it. The black-haired teen grumbled when yet again, Quinn failed to notice his frustration, retreating to their shared room to take a nap and jerk off, since his best friend apparently had taken a vow of celibacy in the dead of the night.

**************************************************************

"Dinner's ready!" Cried Quinn from the kitchen hours later, setting the plates down as his parents arrived in the room swiftly followed by a half-asleep Bert. It had been three days since Quinn had even touched Bert, thanks to his moms' sudden need to drag the boys around everywhere with her. 'Bonding', she called it.

'Yeah', thought Quinn, taking his seat while the others slid into their usual places, 'The only bonding I wanna do is my dick with his mouth-'

"The pie looks great, sweetie, thank you." His mom praised the incredible effort Quinn had put into cooking the ready-made pies from the freezer aisle of the local store, a level of cooking beyond her grasp the majority of the time. It was better than nothing.

"Wow, Quinnsteroo-" Quinns' fingers twitched. "This actually looks edible." Bert clapped enthusiastically with sarcasm dripping from his lips, quieting down as they all got ready for their partway decent meals.

Quinn cut into his pie and speared a chunk of pastry on his fork, huffing with irritation when the outer crust began to flake away, though the pie was not his main concern. His mom was distracted by her own dish, but her sons' eyes were focused on the greasy boy across from him. Bert went at his food like a starved man, hefting a particularly large clump of fake-meat smothered generously with sauce onto his fork. He shoved it into his open mouth, bit down... and went still. For a moment, he didn't move, until his gaze darted up to meet Quinns. He couldn't decide if it was the look in the eyes of the blond or the rough slide of broccoli against his tongue that made him shiver. Bert shifted in his seat. Under the heat of his friends stare, he all of a sudden felt too warm, energy surging through his previously lethargic body. The bumpy surface of the vegetable brushed his tongue, while the smooth stalk caressed the roof of his mouth. Quinns' lips twitched into the shadow of a smirk and Bert couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss him with his mouth or his fist.

"Bert? Honey, you look a little sick, are you okay?" The spell was broken by the sound of Mrs. Allmans' voice, cutting through the fog that had fallen in that split second. Trying to avoid losing his cool, he chewed up the broccoli chunk, struggling not to physically shudder when it slid down his throat.

"Yeah, Bert, you don't look too good," said Quinn, the fucking asshole having the audacity to look concerned despite the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. "You're sweating." The younger teen couldn't believe that slipping a slice of veg into his food was all it took Quinn to get him worked up and that he had allowed it to get to him that easily. Normally, he would appreciate it, encourage it almost, but not when it had been days since they had touched each other and Quinns mom was right there staring at him with that worried look. Fuck Quinn, fuck his schemes, fuck his shiny puppy-dog eyes, and fuck his pouty little mouth. God, Bert really wanted to fuck his mouth.

"You're shivering! You should have let me know you were getting sick, I would have picked something up from the drugstore for you." Mrs. Allman cooed, attention fully focused on Bert, who would have given anything for her to leave him (and Quinn) alone.

"I'm fine." The look on her face showed he hadn't convinced her.

"You should lay down. I'll take him upstairs, mom." Offered Quinn, smiling that little smile that could talk Bert McCracken into washing his hair. The conniving bitch had already gotten up out of his seat, expression schooled into one of concerned innocence like he had nothing at all to answer for while his red-faced friend struggled to keep from growing a situation in his pants. The blond bit his lip and brushed his hand oh so lightly against Berts, and he could already feel his cock reacting with a vengeance. He was such a goner for Quinn, that stupid cunt with his swishy hair that was so good to pull, standing there wearing  _grey sweatpants_ and a  _pastel t-shirt_ like some kinda whore. Frankly, Bert thought he should be ashamed to walk around in front of his own mother dressed that provocatively. Did the guy even realize how good he looked? His shirt was baby blue, for fuck's sake, Allman was such a slut.

Or maybe Bert got off on Quinn in grey sweatpants.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts, equally divided between thinking about how badly he wanted the elder of the two to bend him over the table and wanting to punch Quinn in the face for making him need it that desperately, that he took several moments too long to respond to the surprisingly gentle hands urging him out of his chair.

"Don't worry mom," assured Quinn, propelling Bert towards the hallway to the stairs. "I'll get him settled."

 

He hummed and sang seemingly without realizing it as he brought Bert to the bedroom, so quiet you could hardly hear it, breath on his smaller companions neck. Bert considered strangling him.


	2. Berts Mouth Is Worth Getting Smacked For.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn clutched the tangled black locks in one hand, pulling just to hear Bert whine as the singers head bobbed in his lap. Nobody had a mouth quite like Bert McCracken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cheeky tie-in with that thing you wrote, Jack Riot.  
>  

Bert's stomach grumbled in protest to his meal being interrupted. ' _Shut up,'_ thought Bert.  _'More important things than you need to be filled right now.'_

Breathing hard, he allowed Quinn to push him into the bedroom and shut the door before he lost all pretence of patience. Whirling around, he pulled Quinn's neck down to meet his lips with his own. There was no pause, no pulling themselves together. It was no timid kiss. This was a kiss that said 'I fucking want you' hence Bert didn't intend for it to end until both of them had spent themselves on the floor somewhere.

Quinn had a plan. As was usual, it went forcefully out the window when presented with the touch of Bert's lips to his own. He was drawn into the whirlwind that was his best friend, the unstoppable force that was Bert McCracken with broccoli on his tongue and a raging hard-on. He could taste it, even, intoxicated by the frontman's mouth, melting into the familiar way his fingers dug into the back of his neck and he threw his whole self into the embrace. The blond couldn't stop touching him, hands roaming down his back, into his filthy hair, making clear to Bert just how much he wanted him. Pulling away from the kiss was just about the hardest thing he had ever done.

"Suck me off."

That was one instruction that Bert hardly ever felt the need to contest. Quinn Allman wanted a good sucking, Bert had a good mouth; it would be a damn shame not to put those two things together. As he slid his hand up the taller man's shirt, he dropped to his knees, thanking every power that may be for Quinn's fondness for grey sweatpants that did absolutely fucking nothing to conceal his erection. If he believed in god, he would call it a blessing that this guy who changed his life so completely also happened to be a gorgeous, lustful bastard who liked watching Bert touch himself. McCracken was actually pretty sure he had had a dream like that once.  _If I fucking wake up in my parents' place and find out Quinn isn't real,_ he mused with his free hand stroking the blond through the fabric,  _I'm gonna pray for God to be so I can fucking strangle that bitch for it._

"That's it," Quinn rasped, eyes darkened by the dim light in a way that had Bert's skin prickling. "Fuck, you look _so-_."

The sound of Quinn choking back a noise merely spurred him on, tugging his pants out of the way. Of course, Quinn wasn't wearing underwear. He wouldn't be, would be? The cunt had it planned. Bert  **knew** this was his plan. Allman had deprived him of sex for days, then sprung that shit on him at the dinner table. It was such a Quinn thing to do, make him wait until he was half insane from want. Fuck him, fuck his idiotic manipulative bullshit. Bert was going to give him the best blowjob of his life and consequently it was up to Quinn to keep his unfairly charming mouth shut so his mom didn't hear. Driven by this thought, he wrapped his fingers around Quinn's cock, tongue slipping out to barely brush the tip. Quinn let his head fall back against the door, fingers splayed over the back of Bert's head, second hand near his mouth to quieten himself should he need to. Bert was really fucking good at sex; when he had a fire like that in his eyes, he was better.

"Hurry up," Urged Quinn, aware of the fact his mother could interrupt them any moment if her concern for Berts well being spiked. "She could come check on us- _motherfucker."_ He made a strangled noise and clamped a hand down over his mouth on account of the fact that Bert swiftly took him between his lips. His fingers slipped in to tease Quinns balls, and he pulled back with a slick sound to dig his tongue into Quinn's slit, swirling around the head of his cock. He knew exactly where to touch, rubbing the frenulum to make him quiver. Quinn clutched the tangled black locks in one hand, pulling just to hear Bert whine as the singers head bobbed in his lap. Nobody had a mouth quite like Bert McCracken.

 

****************************************************************************

He left Bert kneeling there hard as a rock, cum splattered across his face, as he went back downstairs to reassure his mom that Bert was fine.

"How is he, honey?" She called to him when entered the room, worry plain on her face. Bert got sick so easily.

"He's alright," Quinn said without pause. "He gagged a little, but he got over it."

The teen scooped up Berts abandoned plate and disappeared into the kitchen, emerging a minute later with the dish freshly heated in the microwave.

"I'm gonna give it to him," Quinn nodded to the plate. "He wants this." 

Struggling to contain his smirk, Quinn hurried up the stairs. He speared a piece of broccoli on his fork, and licked the sauce from it, opening the door with his hip just as he flicked his tongue over the top. From the centre of the room, Bert whimpered.

 

Quinn let his own dinner go cold and untouched. There was plenty to eat right there in front of him.

 


End file.
